“How very perspicacious.” Much to her own amazement, Lady Maccon had found that Mrs. Tunstell, a lady of little society and less apparent sense, often had the most surprising things to relate. Knowing well that the best encouragement was to say nothing, Alexia drank her tea and gave Ivy a dark-eyed look of interest.

“Well, you should never believe it, but I ran into a scepter in the street.”

“A scepter . . . what, like the queen’s?”

“Oh, no, you know what I mean. A ghost. Me, can you imagine? Right through it I went, all la-di-da. I could hardly countenance it. I was completely unnerved. After I had recovered my capacities, I realized the poor thing was a tad absent of good sense. Subsequent to much inane burbling, she did manage to articulate some information. She seemed peculiarly attracted to my parasol, which I was carrying at night only because my business with Madame Lefoux had taken longer than expected. Otherwise, you understand, I have always found your habit of toting daytime accessories at all hours highly esoteric. Never mind that. This ghost seemed peculiarly interested in my parasol. Kept asking about it. Wanted to know if it did anything, apart from shield me from the sun, of course. I informed her flat out that the only person I knew who boasted a parasol that extruded things was my dear friend Lady Maccon. You remember I saw yours emit when we were traveling in the north? Well, I told this to the ghost in no unceremonious terms, at which point she got most stimulated and asked as to your current whereabouts. Well, since she was a ghost and, as such, tethered within a shortened area of the location, I saw no reason not to relay your new address to her. It was all very odd. And she kept repeating the most peculiar turn of phrase, regarding a cephalopod.”

“Oh, indeed? What exactly did she say, Ivy?”

“ ‘The octopus is inequitable,’ or some such drivel.” Ivy looked as though she might continue her discussion, except at that moment she caught sight of Felicity through the open parlor door.

“Alexia, your sister appears to be most unbalanced. I am quite convinced I just observed her wearing a lemon-yellow knit shawl. With a fringe. Going out into public. I cannot countenance it.”

Lady Maccon closed her eyes and shook her head. “Never mind that now, Ivy.”

“Convinced, I tell you. How remarkable.”

“Anything more about the ghost, Ivy?”

“I think it might have had something to do with the OBO.”

This comment brought Alexia up short. “What did you just say?”

“The Order of the Brass Octopus—you must have heard of it.”

Lady Maccon blinked in shock and put her hand to her stomach where the infant-inconvenience kicked out in surprise as well. “Of course I have heard of it, Ivy. The question is, how have you?”

“Oh, Alexia, I have been working for Madame Lefoux for positively ages. She has been traveling overmuch of late, and her appearance can be very distracting, but I am not so unobservant as all that. I am well aware that when she is in town, she undertakes fewer hat-orientated activities than hat-focused ones. She runs an underground contrivance chamber as I understand it.”